PillowFace (26 page)

He checked the time again, saw it was nearly four. 
Wife’s probably been calling every damn body looking for me, probably called the police and filed a missing persons report. 
Before squirting his orgasm in the pad of Haley’s panties, he hadn’t been thinking about these things, nothing had mattered to the perpetual Mr. Jones, but now that he’d spent his load, he was seeing everything with his
own
eyes again.  He couldn’t believe what had come over him, but he was glad that it had come out of him with his gluey explosion of white inside Haley’s panties.  He had planned to dump them back into her hamper when he was done, or smearing the glop all over her pillow, but now that he was thinking clearly again, he realized that wasn’t a good idea.  So, he wadded them up into a ball, making sure the wet spot was on the inside, and stuffed them down his pocket.  He might toss them out the window on his way home, but then again, he might just keep them as a souvenir. 

I’d rather have Haley.   

Damn it, he was here, in her room. He
could
have her.
Not yet…not yet. 
He slunk to the door. Thankfully, the floor was heavily carpeted, so his tread was silent, but there was still the fear his steps would make something in the house pop.  Houses, no matter their age, were always settling and screeching and popping when someone walked.  He prayed that wouldn’t happen now.

As he stepped up to the door, he heard the kid tell the other he’d be right back and then listened to his retreating footsteps becoming faint as they went down the stairs to the house’s main floor.
Fuck!
His plan had been to tiptoe downstairs and bolt through the door, but that had changed.

Haley’s door hung half-open, giving him a good two feet to peer through.  Stiltedly, he lowered his head to the door and peeked around the side.  To the right was the bathroom, its door opened.  A mat of light shimmered across the hall from inside the bathroom.  A dark shadow raked across.  Someone was in there.   He was stuck like a rat in a trap, and not one of those spring-levered traps either, the round ones with a welcoming entrance that lured them inside, then snapped shut and kept them there until they died. 

“What now,” he muttered. 

The person in the bathroom stilled, blocking the light and giving him a view of their outline. Gargantuan.
An ogre-like shape stood solid in the bathroom.  He’d heard Geoff speak. Even though he had barely articulated his concern above a whisper, he’d heard him. 
Shit, oh shit. 
But, instead of drawing back like he should, Geoffrey Jones only stood frozen at the door, unable to tear himself away so he could hide.  Then he saw a thick arm, muscular and filthy reach out.  A burlap sacked head poked out like a bear coming out of its cave after hibernation. 

A scream snagged in his throat.

Backtracking, he stumbled over his feet and tripped over the bed, doing a reversed somersault onto the floor.  The carpet may have been able to silence his footsteps, but it did nothing to mute his landing.  In fact, it sounded like a mini-avalanche in the still morning hours of winter. 
Fuck me sideways and backwards,
he thought as he leaped to his feet. 

Clunking
footsteps resonated from the hall. 

“What was that?” shouted the kid from downstairs. 

He looked around the room, hoping to find either a place to hide or a way out. He had two options:  the window, or the closet. He might as well just call the cops himself if he hid in there, so the window was his only logical option, though it wasn’t a rational one. He was two stories up and would have to jump. He might survive the fall, but he wouldn’t escape it unscathed. A few broken bones, probably some busted ribs, might as well add even more casts to match the one on his hand that was already causing a deep itch he couldn’t reach if he tried. 

He ran to the window, flipped the hinge-lock to the right, and raised it with his left hand.  It was still cramping from the self-pleasuring act he’d performed earlier.  There was a screen, but it could be opened also by two latches on each side that needed to be pushed concurrently.  How in the hell
was he going to deal with this?

When the door opened and the hulk from the bathroom stepped in, he no longer worried about how to maneuver the screen; in fact it became the farthest thing from his mind.  “Oh my God!” he shouted, his legs folding under him. 

The giant was fuming through the heavy burlap.  He raised his hands up like the Frankenstein monster and charged for him. 

Geoff didn’t stop to think about what he did next.  Turning around, he stepped back and punted the screen, sending it soaring.  He was already halfway through the window when he felt hands pawing and grabbing at him as he set his foot down on the landing outside.  He launched his other foot through, knocking his balance off, and much like the screen; he teetered over the edge.  He held his breath the entire way down.  Cold instinct kept his arms wind-milling out to his sides in search of something to grab. 

They finally found it when he struck ground.

****

Joel charged into Haley’s room, finding Pillowface looking through where the window had been, both hands resting on the sill. “What happened?  Was someone here?”

He looked back at the boy and nodded. Then he stepped back and pointed.  Joel rushed past him, leaning out and scanning the yard.  The screen lay busted on the ground.  He combed the yard from one side to the other, but found no one. The grass was compressed where someone had landed, but there wasn’t a body to match the impression. 

What he didn’t know was the man who’d thrown himself through the window had managed to slide under the bushes by the house, injured and frightened.  

“There’s no one there, now.  What’d he look like?”  Pillowface had no way of answering, and even though he could write it down, Joel didn’t consider it for a moment’s sake.  All he worried about now was how they would fix the window before Haley came home.

(III)

The mask was different, but the body was the same size and shape it had always been. No one else had a build like
that
. 

It was him, for sure.

Buddy had been watching through the binoculars, and now he scanned the bushes where the man was cowering. He lay on his stomach, and appeared to be crying.  Buddy laughed at the idiot, but was also wondering just what the hell was going on in that house.

(I)

Joel handed the bandages, twine, and needle to Pillowface, then left him alone in the bathroom and went outside. He found the screen from Haley’s window, took it to the woods, and chucked it.  He hoped with Haley’s window closed and the drapes lowered, she wouldn’t notice the missing screen. She never opened the stupid window anyway, but if for some reason she did, he’d play dumb. 

Haley, I have no idea.  Why would
I
do something to the screen? 

He took a seat on the steps, and buried his face in his hands.  A moment later he was crying, soon after that, he was sobbing hysterically. 

It was bearing down on him: Pillowface and all of the
quirks
associated with him were getting the best… scratch that; they were getting the worst of him.  He didn’t like the thoughts that had crossed his mind the past couple of days, or the things he’d been tempted to do. 

But, he
had
found a friend, hadn’t he? 

He guessed they were friends. 

Why me?

Joel could wonder that a million times and never find the answer.  He could ask Pillowface, and even if the man
could
talk, Joel doubted he even had an answer.  He looked beyond the grove of trees at the edge of his yard and wondered about Ethan and Paul.  He hoped they’d gone home and forgotten all of this had happened.  He doubted it though, and figured more trouble was bound to come once they woke up, if they hadn’t already. 

(II)

Jonesy still hadn’t reported to work when Haley and Carlee got back to the law firm, and that meant there wasn’t going to be much to do at the office.  With that in mind, Haley packed up her things, and told Carlee she was going back to the bookstore to spend some time with Alan. She also invited her to dinner at her house tonight, figuring it would be something nice to remind Alan he still had friends that cared.  She told the office manager to deduct the hours from her personal time since there were
personal
matters she needed to attend to.  She’d spent the next couple of hours at the bookstore (what was left it), and now that the afternoon was in its later hours, and the firemen had all cleared out, she was finally on her way home. 

Glancing at Alan in the passenger seat, she saw that he seemed to be genuinely smiling. He probably thought he’d never be able to again, but Haley had that effect on people, and could usually bring out a smile even in the worst of situations. Not always, of course, but it was something she was moderately good at. 

Thinking back to what had put Alan in her car, and why he was accompanying her to the house, she wanted to smile, but couldn’t rightfully do so, because he might take that as her being grateful the bookstore had burned down.  She was by no means happy about that, but she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t hopeful for what might come from it.

“…could always stay with me,” she’d said.

“I couldn’t do that,” Alan had said, patting her leg.  “It’s a sweet gesture, but I just
couldn’t.
”

“Why not?”

“I would be imposing on you, and plus I can probably just stay with my sister.” 

“You wouldn’t be imposing on me at all, I promise.  I don’t want you to feel
obligated
because of last night or anything, but I’ll say it again, you’re more than welcome to stay at my house for as long as you like.” 

He’d thought about it for another moment and said, “What about your brother?” 

She hadn’t considered Joel’s feelings on the matter. In fact, she was so consumed with Alan that she’d almost forgotten he existed entirely.  “I-I don’t think he’d mind.”  It was a lie, sure, but if Alan had caught wind of it, he hadn’t let on. 

“Well, maybe just tonight. I don’t really feel up to explaining everything to my sister yet anyway. Plus, I’d need somewhere to sit down, and contact the insurance companies and all that…”  He groaned, then turned around on the bench, looking at what little remained of his home, and his store. The firemen had finished hauling everything off, but an investigator stayed behind to sort through the ruins with a long stick, looking for clues as to what had caused this disaster in the first place. Then Alan faced Haley again. “You sure your brother wouldn’t mind?” 

“Positive.” Joel would probably more than mind, he’d freak.  Maybe even cause a scene, but she hoped not.  “It would mean a lot to
me
if you did stay the night.” 

That was what had settled it
.

She was so proud of herself that she only half noticed the car hidden amongst the trees on the shoulder of Marble Lane.  It was vaguely familiar, but she hardly cared enough to acknowledge it.  Before she had driven much further, the car was already forgotten.

(III)

With Pillowface stitched up again and back in the basement, Joel used this scant moment alone to sneak back to the woods.  Ethan and Paul never came back to the house, and he wanted to find out if they were still out there.  But, if they weren’t then where had they gone?  That also worried him.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Ethan had gone straight home and told his parents about what had happened.  On the other hand there was Paul.  He seriously doubted he would tell anyone, but since he hadn’t come waddling to the house, sore and bruised, had him just as confused.

He grabbed the shovel leaning against the side of the house, planning to finish filling the grave properly while he was out there.  The plate was caked with two days’ worth of dried dirt from burials.  As he entered the woods he considered hiking back to Clay Ray and burying him too.  If he went there first, he could take care of Tonya on the way back. 
Forget it. 
Going back wasn’t worth the time it would take to do it.  Clay Ray was dead.  They’d dragged him off the trail and left him under the pine trees. 

What if he’s not dead?  What if he’s waiting for me somewhere in the woods? 

Joel knew that he was still where they’d left him.  The top layer of his head had been attached to Pillowface’s chainsaw until he’d torn it from the grooves and chucked it into the creek.   

Would probably take weeks for someone to find him.  If ever. 

Joel felt hollow inside for what he’d done to his friends, and how he’d left them behind.  Summer was ruined, for himself, his friends, and probably would be soon for Haley, too.  The last few weeks he’d looked forward to summer vacation as impatiently as he used to for Christmas when he was little.  

He’d mapped out his whole break which consisted of: horror movies until his eyes burned. He’d bought three paperbacks and planned to have them read by August, and he was going to make a puppet of Herschel, a little alien he’d sketched out in Algebra class. 

Keep it up like this, and I won’t ever get to.
That depressed him. To think that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy his time away from school because he was too busy hiding bodies that his new
friend
kept dispatching. 

Maybe I should ask him to leave. 

That was an appealing idea that lingered longer than he’d expected it to.  How would Pillowface react if he was to suggest it? 
It’s not like I’m ending our friendship, just telling him he can’t stay at the house. He can come and visit whenever he likes. 
Would he want him to? 
Why wouldn’t I? 
Walking up the steep incline, he began to seriously ponder the idea of telling Pillowface to leave. 

But, the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to do it.

They liked each other, and it was kind of cool having someone like that on your side.  Still,
something
had to be done. Couldn’t keep going like this. Maybe he could train him, or teach him to be less brutal.  Show him that he doesn’t always have to kill.  Show him that…

Joel stopped dead in his tracks.  Frozen.  He’d arrived at the spot, but what he found was not what he had left.  Paul was gone, and Ethan now lay on his stomach, face down in the dirt. 
What happened here?

(IV)

Geoffrey Jones needed to make his move.  He hurt all over, which was only being made worse by staying cooped up under the bushes.
Can’t stay here forever.
But that was exactly what he wanted to do so he wouldn’t have to go home and face the wife, the kids, or go to work and tell everyone a hoaxed tale about what happened to his hand, and on top of that, whatever extra bones he’d broken in the fall. The hospital was going to love him before it was over with, but his insurance company was going to be livid. 

Can’t wait to make that phone call. 

He wiggled his toes first. There was no pain in doing that, so his feet seemed fine, along with his ankles and shins. However, when he tried bending his leg, scorching explosions popped in a chain reaction of liquid ice up into his thighs and hips. He opened his mouth to cry out, but only managed a gasping squeal. His left knee was swollen.  There was no mistaking it from the bulge under his posh pants. The right seemed okay enough, even though it throbbed with a dull ache.  He could handle that, but the left knee was out of business. 

How am I going to do this without being seen? 

He rolled over to his side and scoped what he could see of the backyard.  There was a wooden fence running up the side of the house, but it was open in the back with an outlet to the woods.  If he went the other way, he’d have to cross straight over the backyard.  At the rate he’d be moving, he’d be spotted for sure. That left him only one choice. Since one leg was busted he would need something to support him. The fence could do that, plus it may also offer support by means of shelter. From the neighbors, mostly, but he’d still be wide open to the Olsen house. He was willing to risk it to get to the woods.  From there, he could walk at his leisure back to the car. 

Geoff Jones stretched out an arm on the grass.  It had recently been mowed and was hard to grab. A couple attempts later, he got a firm hold. He stuffed his tie in his mouth and bit down to keep from screaming as he dragged his aching stone of a body into the yard.  A pain like burning grease singed his left knee.  Grabbing, tugging, and pulling, he slid out from under the bush as if he were the survivor of a plane crash crawling to salvation.  His brow was glossy with sweat.  His hair, normally slicked back and shiny, hung over his forehead like Shemp from
The Three Stooges. 

Now he needed to stand up.  It seemed impossible.  He pushed his right knee forward, planting it into the ground.  Cringing, he shuffled his left out to the side, keeping it fully extended.  He shivered in pain, his teeth chattering.  He hurt deep into his gut, churning his stomach.  He sniffed, sucked down the phlegm and hocked it back up. 

Then, with what gusto he had left, he forced himself to stand. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated.  He stood there a moment, composing himself, letting his breath settle.  His vision was hazy. 
I did it.  I fucking did it. 
After a few short moments, he stumbled to the fence, dragging his left leg behind him like a dead weight. He collapsed against it. The unforgiving wood punished his already sore hip, but he didn’t care.  He’d made it this far and wasn’t about to let a little more pain stop him.  Putting his arm without the cast above him, he grappled the top of the fence.  Hanging on, he guided himself back through the yard, the fence as his stanchion.  It was hard with his damaged leg pushed forward, but he made it work. Any moment he expected to see that man again, or Haley’s brother, but no one came. As he loomed toward the end of the fence, he assumed he was home free. 

Then a man dressed head to toe in green stepped out from the other side of the fence.  His smile was triangle-shaped, and his eyes beamed menacingly, spiteful, and wicked. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked. 

Geoff’s eyes did a quick scan of the man’s body and locked on the knife clutched in his hand. 

“I hope this isn’t a bad time, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay.” 

Spitting while he spoke, Geoff Jones said, “Who are you?” 

Unflinching, he raised a hand to his face and wiped the spittle away.  “No time for that now.”  He sighed, putting the knife away.  “Now, are you going to cooperate on your own or do I have to make you?” 

He didn’t answer.  Instead, he hobbled closer to the man, allowing him to escort him where he was requested.

The man smiled, “Good.  This way.” 

Once they were around the fence, Geoff Jones was pushed against it and held there.  He could feel the knife’s cool blade against his throat.  “My name’s Carp…this guy behind me is Buddy.”  

“Glad you could make it.”  The other voice was muffled, as if it was being spoken from behind something. 

A different man, wearing a plastic mask and holding what looked to him like a squeaky camera, looked him over, surveying him like a section of land.

He released the trigger and the camera silenced.  As he lowered the camera from his eye, he said “What’s your business with that house?”